Embrace the Void
by Owens rest
Summary: What is the price of life? How much would you be willing to pay in order to save your world? A relic from the passed has surfaced; it's power? Unfathomable, it's use? Unimaginable, it's destructive force? Unquestionable. To the victor go the spoils.


**Authors note**. _Well, this is my first attempt at a full length story for a warcraft fanfic. Most characters I plan on using are my own creation, though that will probably change once things start picking up. Advice and reviews are always appreciated, as I am always looking to improve my writing. Also, if you would like one of your own characters incorporated into the story, feel free to ask. I love working with other people =) I can't promise anything, but if I see a place for one, I'd love to incorporate them. This first chapter (as well as the one after) will take place shortly before the in game events of the burning crusade, where Prince Kael'thas was still viewed as the ruler of the Blood Elf people. All events after take place shortly before the beginning of Cataclysm. As always, I hope you enjoy the read_

_01/05/11 **edit**: Shortened the first chapter a bit, and trimmed where needed. Have also changed the synopsis in order to better reflect the story arc. If you see any grammatic or spelling errors, feel free to give me a tell on them; I have a horrible nack for missing them when I look over my own work =P_

**1.**

The midnight air frighteningly cold, yet his skin felt like it was on fire. Droplets of sweat escaped from the edges of his cloth robes, running down the length of his arm and onto the oiled blade he carried. To his west lay the ruins of Lordaeron, it's menevolent fumes painting a black cloud across the already darkened sky, all but blocking out the moon and stars on those that traversed Tristfal Glades. For once, Draven was thankful for the Forsaken's activities. Whatever infernal device they now worked towards, it gave him the precious cloak that was needed for the events about to unfold.

A soft whistle emanated from his right, perhaps a few yards away. Not a soul in the forest would have been disturbed by it; even the frighteningly anxious birds would have hardly given the sound a second thought, but it immediately put the blood elf at ease. Draven allowed himself a precious second to wipe the sweat from his brow as he returned the signal. Everyone was in position, all eyes no doubt locked onto the target that lay ahead of them.

The Tower stood like a lone giant amidst the dead forest. It's vestige loomed across Fenris lake with an almost haunting presence. Despite himself, Draven shivered at the sight of it. There was an evil surrounding the area, permeating even the air that flowed around it. A single torch burned dimly at the towers top, creating ghastly shadows across it's stone walls; a thousand dancing tendrils of darkness that seemed all to alive within the deadened forest.

Slowly placing his hand into his pocket, Draven withdrew a small, glimmering shard; hardly bigger then a gold coin in size. An unnatural glow surrounded the artifact, one that made the blood elf uncomfortable within the relative safety of the night. Still, it was the only way.

Bringing the jewel to eye level, Draven returned his gaze towards the tower. Through the lens of the artifact, the tower burst into view with unimaginable vibrancy. Swirls purple slowly pulled free from the walls, echoing away from the tower like ripples in water; slowly disappearing as they drifted further and further away. Small glowing orbs too, came into view. Unlike the purple waves, these seem to move with no discernable motive or reason, often changing direction with no notice. All magical energies; invisible to the human eye, but a sure sign of the power that had taken residence within the tower.

And finally, what he had expected to see caught his eye. A creature that could only be described as one befitting a world of nightmares more than that of the real lumbered into view from behind the tower.

Its head appeared to be that of a human skull, its eyes two burning that glowed a almost hollow green from within. Its body was misshapen and enlarged, its arms hanging down to its knees, which bent in the wrong direction. A second set of arms were set upon its chest, these ones so small that they appeared to be a child's. While the creature seemed over all very subdued and sluggish, these smaller arms moved with almost breakneck speed. Each time one of the shimmering orbs of energy strayed to close, the tiny arms would shoot out, pulling the energy in and dissolving it within seconds. Giant, leathery wings flapped endlessly upon the creatures back, though they seemed to derive no lift from the action.

Two soft whistles again, this time from his left. The others no doubt had seen it too, and it was now open as to who would deal with it. Draven lowered himself onto the hardened earth as he waited for the order. Finally a whistle came from his right, indicating that the commander himself would handle the task.

A tingle of pain hit the blood elf's chest, far more then he had actually expected it to hurt. This would have been his area of expertise; it should have been his duty to handle the beast.

Several seconds of silence followed as the creature continued to lumber about its patrol's in peace. Then, without warning massive chains erupted from the ground, surrounding the beast in seconds from all directions. A silent, startled scream erupted from the creature's mouth as the chains wrapped themselves around it, slamming it to the ground with enough force to shatter bones. The creature quickly squirmed, trying to free itself from the chains that pulled it down, but the act was futile from the beginning.

Already Draven could see the energy being drained from the creature. Another silent scream painted itself across the creature's lips as its body began to contract and shrivel; the chains literally ripping the demonic magics from within it and pulling the energy back into the earth. Another minute passed, and then it was over. The husk of the creature crumbled into ash, which was devoured all the same by the hungry chains before they disappeared.

Draven lowered the gem from his eye, looking at the tower with his own vision again. Nothing. It was as if the entire attack had been a figment of his imagination. Slowly pulling himself up, Draven made his way towards a clearing near the doorway that marked the entrance to the tower. To his right and left he could make out the shapes of his team moving to meet him.

The first to speak was the Commanding Officer of the mission. Trax Songblade was a legend among the Order; being one of the first of the Farstriders appointed to the Spell Breaker division by Prince Kael'thas himself, Commander Songblade had made a name for himself by his ruthless tactics that he employed, along with his near impeccable record of success when hunting down rogue magister's. It was considered one of the highest honors one could bestow upon a Spell Breaker to be placed under the supervision of Songblade, even though it nearly always meant a shorter lifespan.

"If he didn't know we were coming, he is sure to be alerted now. Serrila, cut off any spell that he may try to cast. Lex and Methro, destroy any puppets or slaves that he may have within his employ," The Commander rattled off his orders in rapid succession, with each member of the group quickly nodding as they received their assignment. Draven's heart felt like it could sink no lower as the Commander finished; he hadn't spoken a single word to him.

"Commander, I-"

"I will not be entertaining your protests today priest. Nor will I be needing your _help," _The commander spat, turning his attention back to the doorway without so much as a second glance at his subordinate .

Draven could not even bring himself to argue with the words. In the back of his mind, he had known that something like this was bound to happen. Commander Songblade had never taken kindly to having the priest thrust into his command. The fact that Draven had constantly argued with him on the Commander's reckless, often ruthless nature had all but severed the ties between the two.

This would be his last mission, Songblade would see him dismissed from the Spell Breaker's and disgraced from all of Silvermoon. Silently, the younger blood elf nodded in acknowledgement.

The door was oaken, no magical runes but sturdy none the less. Only two would be able to pass through at a time, and those first through would bear the brunt of any attack that was summoned from the towers defenses, thus the most veteran of the group were the first to make their way towards the door. A Blood elf by the name of Serrila Dawnstrike took her place at the side of the commander, her steel armor nearly matching that of her superior. She'd been a Farstrider before her move into the Spell Breaker divisions, and made quite a name for herself within the military. Draven had never much cared for her, something about the way she always looked down on him (or rather, how she looked down on _everyone.)_

The next two behind them were the Twins Lexia and Methro. Lexia, the older of the two, had been a magister of sorts before her move into the order; while Draven could hardly guess what Methro did before his recruitment. Neither was very well known, but their skills were exceptional to say the least. Draven had actually enjoyed his time with the two, between all their bickering. Draven pulled himself to the rear of the twins, ready to move into the room once the lead pair pushed their way forward.

A few seconds went by in silence, Draven recalling all information he knew about the target in the hopes of pulling forth a bit of information that would help him, should the need arise. Velos Duskstrider; he had been a nethermancer of great importance within Kael'thas' expedition into Outlands. His studies had been focused directly into that of fel energy and its potential supplemental uses…. There had also been some reports of studies into void energies and quite a bit of requisitions for illusion dust before his betrayal, neither of which was all that peculiar for a magister of his rank. But what else? Hadn't there been another application of his work?

The Oak door in front of the group literally exploded from its hinges as the two lead Spell Breakers rushed though the opening; nearly upending the priest as his mind shot back to reality. He could already hear screams from inside the doorway as the two twins followed suit. A few seconds hesitation and he too followed them.

A ball of arcane energy blasted by the blood elf's head as he entered, nearly decapitating him as it tore through the air and out the open doorway. Draven forced himself to focus as he raised a magical shield in defense, eyes darting from his left and right as he did so. Methro and Lexia were holding their ground near an overturned alchemy table and a few upturned book cases. The Commander Songblade was not far off, himself holding behind a magical barrier similar to Dravens; though no doubt much stronger. From his position, it was evident that the target was near the back of the room, up a flight of stairs overlooking the circular room and towards the top of the tower.

But what of Dawnstrike? Another ball of chaotic energy shot past the blood elf, forcing him to duck behind cover as the others had. He could see no sign of Serrila, nor whatever attacker lay into them. To all outward appearances, the room was empty, save for the group. A wave of arcane energy crackled to life from the stairwell, rebounding off the Commander's shield and burning its way into the stone wall a few feet away. More spells followed suit, targeting anyone who tried to move towards the stairwell. Draven could see Songblade cursing to himself, his eyes fixed upon the stairwell as he tried in vain to move past the invisible assault.

Inch by inch, Draven made his way to the right; finally combining his own shields with that of the twins. Lexia hardly even noticed him, though he imagined she had her hands full with the brunt of the shield; being that she was the more magically adept of the two. Methro however, gave him a slight nod, flinching visibly as an explosion tore its way into the wall behind them, sending ripples through the shield as it passed.

"What the fel is happening? Where is Dawnstrike?" Draven could hardly hear himself over the constant explosions and crackling of magical energy. The entire room seemed alive, with each new spell sending ripples across the room; tearing apart the molded furniture and stone walls with ease as it passed.

"We had to have sprung a trap when we entered. Serrila managed to get through the stairwell before the worst of it started; Songblade sent her ahead to try and deactivate it," Methro called back, his eyes scanning over the room for any sign of what might be casting the spells. It couldn't be Velos' doing, that much Draven was sure of. The Nethermancer's skill lay in fel energies, not the arcane.

So another Magister had cast it then, a follower of Duskstrider perhaps. But how had Serrila managed to get by then? Surely a spell caster with the power to create such an entrapment would have been able to keep anyone at bay.

His eye shot to that of the Commander, already a few feet ahead of the group. Even with the continual torrent of spells thrown against him, he still seemed to be slowly making his way forward. But how? Even with himself and the twin's powers, Draven could see hardly any possibility of moving forward? How was the Commander able to mo-

Draven's face went pale as the answer fell into place. Serrila hadn't gotten past it; she had been let through; just as Trax was being let through, little by little. The spell was not meant to stop them; it only had to separate the group.

"It's splitting us apart, we have to stop Spellblade!" He called out, only to be rebuffed as a wave of magical energy hammered into the shield surrounding the trio. Lexia was visibly shaking within her robes, beads of sweat rolling across her forehead as she struggled to maintain the field that protected them. The Commander was almost to the stairwell by now, well out of range of for any warning. Draven's mind frantically searched for a solution. Without Serrila, the group was already weakened enough; the loss of Commander Spellblade would…

The spell matrix had to have a grounding nearby, nothing with this amount of power could be transmitted remotely; but where! Draven's eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that would indicate where the magister had ground the spell to. But there was nothing, the entire room was as run down and dilapidated and destroyed as the rest. What little hadn't been already scarred or wrecked from the rampant spell work seemed ready to fall over, even the wood floor seemed ready to give away at a moment's notice. It was a wonder the ceiling hadn't-

"Of course!" Draven gasped, turning his gaze towards the stone ceiling above them. Not a single scratch, the entire ceiling had remained all but untouched from the constant barrage of spells that permeated the air. The matrix had to be at the center, from where it would draw the most power.

"Methro!" Draven yelled, grabbing the other blood elf by the arm and jerking to get his attention. Methro made a move to protest, but quickly quieted as Draven rattled off the knowledge to him. Neither would be able to attack the spot on their own however, only Lexia would have the knowhow to destroy the intricate workings within.

"The center! Aim for the center!" Draven called as Methro told his sister what they planned. At first Draven had thought she might all but ignore them, but a quick spat between her and Methro ended in her reluctant agreement. The strike would leave them vulnerable, as whatever shield remained would easily shatter after Lexia put her focus into the assault; if they were wrong about the location, it would mean their immediate death. There were no alternatives left though, any longer and the Commander would be at the stairway.

Their attack would have to take place during one of the weaker of the matrix's assaults, that being it's arcane strikes. Though still powerful, those attacks that had struck them had been few and far between; and with good reason. Even Methro, who had only a beginning grasp of magical knowledge, would have been able to hold such attacks at bay with only a little effort.

Why that was the case remained a mystery to Draven, even as his mind try to pry the answers from the air around him. It would make no sense for one school to be made purposefully weaker than, who ever had made the entrapment would have been a fool to overlook such a flaw.

A shower of freezing ice pounded against the shield as Draven's eyes darted to the Commander, now just inches away from being able to reach the stairs. Fire would be next, then the arcane torrents would start; plenty of time. Why though? Why make the arcane purposefully weaker? Unless…..unless it wasn't weaker. Unless the bulk of the arcane magics were being used for something else.

As a wave of searing heat enveloped the shield, Draven's mind finally put the pieces together. That was it, the arcane reserves were not being used offensively; they were being fed into strengthening the spell. Eyes darted to Lexia, he could already feel the arcane energies building up within her body as she recited the enchantments. She wasn't about to destroy it, all her spell would do would make it….

"Don't use arc-" The entire room exploded before he had even time to finish the sentence. The barrier surrounding them shattered like glass, sending the three tumbling like ragdolls through the air. Draven hardly had time to bring his arms up in a futile defense before the first spell hit his body, reversing his direction in mid air and hurling him into the stone wall to his right. A sickening crack reverberated through his body as his ribs shattered from the impact. As his battered body slumped to the floor, the blood elf tried to shield his side from the pain, only to have yet another spell explode into his exposed chest, sending him skidding across the floor into a nearby bookcase.

The pain was insurmountable; his entire body felt like it was being torn apart. Lexia's spell had increased the potency of the spell work at least a dozen times over; it would kill them all in a matter of seconds if something wasn't done. Draven tried to force his mind to action, to think of a solution that would save them; but he could hardly even think as the pain shot through his body. He could already feel the energies within the room building as the next volley prepared itself; it would be over within a blink of an eye. Draven clenched his fist as he waited for the inevitable, praying that the light take him swiftly after he was killed.


End file.
